didn’t sound too urgent or desperate.
“Yeah, of course I want to,” she replied. “What were you, um, what were you thinking? A movie, or something like that?”
“Well, no.” I paused. “I had something a little different in mind. Do you like Mexican?”
“Yeah.”
“Six?”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “Wait. Geoff?”
“What?”
“What should I wear?”
“Oh, it’s just a casual place. It’s not dressy.” I rushed my words. I didn’t want her to back out now that I had my plan in motion. This had to work. Had to.
“Great,” she said after a minute. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll pick you up at six. You live on Halloway, right?”
She laughed again. “How do you know so much about me, Geoff?”
I laughed right along with her, and changed the subject as fast as I could.
L aine and her parents lived in a small white colonial on Halloway in the center of Robert Hill. It had a detached two-car garage, a large tree in the front yard, and a red front door.
Halloway was just around the corner from Kentwood Elementary, a tan brick building where I’d spent the first six years of school getting my face shoved in gravel, missing kick balls during gym class, and beating my classmates in geography bees.
She waited for me on the wide front porch, and stood up when I pulled the car in next to the curb. She had on a dressy trench coat and one of those huge puffy skirts that reminded me of a ballerina tutu. I gulped when I saw it. First, because as she walked down the sidewalk, she looked like she was walking the runway for a fashion show. Second, because it made me wonder if she considered this a date.
Of course, I considered it a date.
I did. Before I left the house, I tucked three hundred bucks of my money into my wallet, spritzed some Woodland cologne on my chest, and popped two breath mints, just in case. As she walked toward the car, I wondered if maybe she’d done the same.
That thought made my hands start to shake.
“Hey,” she said, as she pulled open the car door. I would have gotten out to help her in, but she did it so fast it caught me off guard. “You look nice.”
“Yeah,” I replied as she got into the car. “So do you. You really do.” I pulled the car away from the curb, and started down the street. The whole time, I had to focus on my hands to keep them from shaking so badly. She couldn’t see how nervous she made me; it would kill the date before it even began. That is, if this was a date. I wasn’t so sure about that.
“I thought we could go downtown,” I choked out, as I stopped the car at the stop sign on the corner of Halloway. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge her reaction to my idea. “How about Nada?”
“Isn’t that place expensive?”
“Nah. It’s not that bad.”
“I’ve heard it is.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
She gave me a sideways glance. “Don’t we have to have a reservation?”
“We don’t need one,” I said, with a confident glance her way.
“We don’t?”
“Nope. Nathan’s bother works as the sous chef at the place. We’ve got connections, Laine.” I leaned back in the seat, willing myself to relax. So what if this was Laine? We were just hanging out. Two friends headed out on a Saturday night to downtown Cincinnati. That was all.
Laine raised her hand up as we pulled out on to I-471. “What. Wait. What are you listening to?”
“Oh, it’s um . . . nothing . . .” I’d turned down the radio out of instinct when I pulled up to her house. Ever since the kids at school had made a big deal about my Megadeth band T-shirt, conversation about music with the other kids at school had been off-limits. They didn’t need more ammunition to make fun of me.
“No, it’s not nothing, Geoff.” She reached over and turned the dial up on the console. The Silverplate Band’s wailing blared through the speakers. “Is this the Lithium station on XM?”
“Well . . . um . . .
“Yeah, of course I want to,” she replied. “What were you, um, what were you thinking? A movie, or something like that?”
“Well, no.” I paused. “I had something a little different in mind. Do you like Mexican?”
“Yeah.”
“Six?”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “Wait. Geoff?”
“What?”
“What should I wear?”
“Oh, it’s just a casual place. It’s not dressy.” I rushed my words. I didn’t want her to back out now that I had my plan in motion. This had to work. Had to.
“Great,” she said after a minute. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll pick you up at six. You live on Halloway, right?”
She laughed again. “How do you know so much about me, Geoff?”
I laughed right along with her, and changed the subject as fast as I could.
L aine and her parents lived in a small white colonial on Halloway in the center of Robert Hill. It had a detached two-car garage, a large tree in the front yard, and a red front door.
Halloway was just around the corner from Kentwood Elementary, a tan brick building where I’d spent the first six years of school getting my face shoved in gravel, missing kick balls during gym class, and beating my classmates in geography bees.
She waited for me on the wide front porch, and stood up when I pulled the car in next to the curb. She had on a dressy trench coat and one of those huge puffy skirts that reminded me of a ballerina tutu. I gulped when I saw it. First, because as she walked down the sidewalk, she looked like she was walking the runway for a fashion show. Second, because it made me wonder if she considered this a date.
Of course, I considered it a date.
I did. Before I left the house, I tucked three hundred bucks of my money into my wallet, spritzed some Woodland cologne on my chest, and popped two breath mints, just in case. As she walked toward the car, I wondered if maybe she’d done the same.
That thought made my hands start to shake.
“Hey,” she said, as she pulled open the car door. I would have gotten out to help her in, but she did it so fast it caught me off guard. “You look nice.”
“Yeah,” I replied as she got into the car. “So do you. You really do.” I pulled the car away from the curb, and started down the street. The whole time, I had to focus on my hands to keep them from shaking so badly. She couldn’t see how nervous she made me; it would kill the date before it even began. That is, if this was a date. I wasn’t so sure about that.
“I thought we could go downtown,” I choked out, as I stopped the car at the stop sign on the corner of Halloway. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge her reaction to my idea. “How about Nada?”
“Isn’t that place expensive?”
“Nah. It’s not that bad.”
“I’ve heard it is.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
She gave me a sideways glance. “Don’t we have to have a reservation?”
“We don’t need one,” I said, with a confident glance her way.
“We don’t?”
“Nope. Nathan’s bother works as the sous chef at the place. We’ve got connections, Laine.” I leaned back in the seat, willing myself to relax. So what if this was Laine? We were just hanging out. Two friends headed out on a Saturday night to downtown Cincinnati. That was all.
Laine raised her hand up as we pulled out on to I-471. “What. Wait. What are you listening to?”
“Oh, it’s um . . . nothing . . .” I’d turned down the radio out of instinct when I pulled up to her house. Ever since the kids at school had made a big deal about my Megadeth band T-shirt, conversation about music with the other kids at school had been off-limits. They didn’t need more ammunition to make fun of me.
“No, it’s not nothing, Geoff.” She reached over and turned the dial up on the console. The Silverplate Band’s wailing blared through the speakers. “Is this the Lithium station on XM?”
“Well . . . um . . .
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